Fall: Russian Veil
by tocreateaworld.thestoryteller
Summary: Before britain fell in 1951, the chimera seed was sown in russia and spread; but it wasn't out of their control. This is a the story of the young scientist named Adrian Borya who wrote the paper out of rage in a strange attempt to grief over the rape and execution of his beloved wife, Klara in Moscow. I am writing each chapter with as much care as possible, please give feedback.
1. Chapter 1

**Fall: Russian Veil.**

1

In the beginning.

Russia 1928

In Solntsevo, Moscow, snow started to fall. Every flake was like a piece of light puffy cotton. Snowfall in Russia is a silent beauty; it brings a sense of life to Russia's desolate landscape. The concrete jungle of apartment building are just almost invisible now with all the thick snowfall. A young looking man stares blankly into the snow fall from his musty apartment window. His pale complexion matches the look in his eyes. A man that has lost everything. Someone void, overflowing with emptiness and grief. This is Adrian Borya, a bar man with a Phd in molecular biology. His father was a solider in the first world war, but he never held high hopes for his son, so academic training became his escape from being more of a man, as his father would put it harshly.

He turned from the window to his small space that he could gracefully call home. A room with a bed and a mattress, covered in beer and vodka stains that smell of his many drunken nights of mourning. His armchair thats equally as dirty as the mattress, is just covered with more cigarette ash living on the cushions. A small table fit to dine one person, covered with multitudes of empty beer glass like bowling pins. Every wall in the room is practically black, but that's the off white wallpaper stained by lack of care and strong cigarette smoke. Adrian wanders through the haze till he finds his armchair pressed up against the wall opposite the only window in the room; and then slouches into his normal shape. The lightbulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling manages to create some sort of glow to the whole room, but only just through all the thick lingering smoke.

Adrian rests his head back into his grimy throne, goggling into the clouds that make up his room ceiling. Caught up in deepened though. Although Adrian lives in one of the most dangerous places in all of Russia, it's more quiet here than any amount of silence one would soak up in a countryside. A while later, he droops his stick-like arm beside him and lifts ups a small silver hand gun from beside his chair. He rests it in the palms of his hands, just gazing through it like it where glass and you could only just make it out. The room is so quiet, caught up in a suspense of ambience. Adrian cradles the gun knowingly this is the start of his end. His awareness of time and days and tomorrow are gone, he only has burned memories that make him ache. His guilt and shames have grown so bad wondering if he could have saved the only one that cared about him. The delicate nature of his graceful wife Klara; always thinking he could have been stronger for her. The emotional pain is just an agonizing stomach pain constant with every waking moment of his bitter existence. Looking at this gun wondering if he will really go though with his long thought upon decision; is he a strong enough man. No one will come looking for him, somebody might find him but Adrian knows that it's very unlikely. What's another gun shot, only to be connected with another that has flashed off somewhere else; it's a perfectly normal thing of life around the concrete jungle.

His heart is thumping against his chest like a jackhammer; he opened up one of his hands and tried rubbing it against his jumper to dry them as best as he could for a best grip. The pressure of suicide was really heavy on him now, but he was violently fighting against the fear. Adrian opens up the window of his room, to point the gun shoved inside his mouth outwards into the snow; to make sure nobody becomes a victim of his pain across the hall; the walls are extremely thin. After pausing himself for a moment, braced for pull his trigger, he cry's; all his barriers broke down, choking like someone moaning with food in their mouth completely powerless to hold back his long empathetic whines and whimpers. Still with this gun lodged in his mouth, rhythmically weeping, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh Klara, please look away, don't watch this," he said helplessly. He pulls the trigger... Click...

Adrian opens his eyes. Nothing happened. Everything is left majestically silent; a soft breeze strokes against his back through the open window. Adrian stares into space blank with tears still covering his burning blue eyes. For a moment he gets jolted with a revelation of confusion over what has just taken place. Not only did his gun fail to work, but he was still alive. For the first time in two years he felt a strange refreshment looming inside; his pain and fear gone. It's like a new leash of life and in his head he felt an intense significance over life again. Suddenly the phone interrupts his bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Creation

Adrian stares at his phone set with a look of confusion; it isn't a regular occurrence for someone to be contacting him, even more perplexing given the circumstances and the timing. He stands over the phone as the vibrating bells scream throughout the small apartment. He lifts up the phone to his ear.

He waits until someone makes the first initiation to speak, breathing heavily down the line, "Is this Adrian," muttered the strong voice sternly. Adrian doesn't play his cards to quickly, but he manages to push through his personal barrier of hesitation. "It is."

"I'm glad I found you," Adrian cuts in lightly, "am I being searched for." The evasive caller pauses for a moment. "There was a paper that found its way to me, I wouldn't construct it to you how exactly. I read it and it left me more intrigued than leaving with a sweeten taste answer. Your name is listed at the top of the paper, and I felt that contacting you would be more efficient for me." Adrian's eyes wandered their way down to his filthy floor, trying to analysis his motivates. "I need you to be more direct with me... What is your name?"

Mystery caller deliberately shuns over mentioning his name. "The paper that you've written here Adrian are quiet remarkable, it made me start to imagine how much this research would contribute towards the Russian war effort." The cold shiver that started between his shoulder earlier in the conversation spread across his bad. An obvious shake of nerves start uttering through Adrian's voice now, even as he tried to hide it. Anything related to war or the thoughts of being drafted in distressed him. Adrian mumbles, "What do you mean, by the War effort?" The voice cuts straight to his main goal now that Adrain had brought it there, "I need to meet you Adrian, this isn't a war call, but you are being drafted." He knew the caller isn't going to hint at the purpose of the call; in the brief seconds that the call really lasted Adrian tried his hardest to recover some brain power to remember every paper that he'd ever written throughout his academic years; all the years of drinking and depression has made him feel like he'd never had a past at all, because he'd forgotten it all that much. Then a single flake of picture in his head made him remember so clearly what paper he could be referring to; he had written a dissertation he titled "the human as a functioning mechanism - could we make better?"

During his last year of university, he'd known Klara for two years. Klara's affection for Adrian was so unique. They had the kind of relationship that only seems to have its existence in a film's protagonist, but they molded it and nurtured it. Adrian and Klara got married alone with a priest named Gus; he was a father and a love of God embodied to them they never would have received anywhere else. The most upsetting part of their relationship was how both became a left and right crutch to each other; both had an almost identical family life that caused them to carry a deep fracture to their soul.

Adrian stutters, "My paper on Human ability?"

The voice went silent for a moment, "Yes." The voices' response didn't help Adrian understand if he was pleased or concerned about his answer on the paper he'd written. "So if I have understood our talk appropriately; you need to see me concerning the data that I have accumulated together in my writings, yes?" The voice seems to have lost its stern veil, "Good my friend, I will meet you after your work shift."


	3. Chapter 3

3

Commencement

Adrian had finished his shift at the "va la voo Bar." He still wasn't convinced whether the name really was part of any era of the French language, but he took it in good faith nonetheless. The bar he worked at was tucked down between a narrow path, where both ends connected to a main street. The walls on each side were really the left and right side of two hugely towering buildings, that don't seem to have any sort of use by the looks of them. The snow from the previous night lay like thick, white spongy carpet on both thin pavements. Thick fog blanketed over the outer street started to melt into the side street he worked. Adrian pulled both shoulder into his neck to try to retain as much body heat that he possibly could. His checks had gone cherry red, and his breath almost glistened; the air had gone icy and clear.

He looked down at his watch, contemplating if he would wait on the voice. His stomach was nervous wondering if he's safe; the fact that a complete stranger knows his place of work made him worry too. Finding a job was stressful enough whenever it's the difference between security or living on the streets with Klara. Adrian had stopped looking both sides now; if anyone was going to head down the street, the snow would be his alarm for that. It had only been 15 minutes since he'd officially finished work, but the cold made each individual second frustratingly prolong into the feeling of minutes per second. Beside him on his right, crunching snow started to become louder and more defined. A figure with bulky shoulder lifted up to his chine started the walk toward him. Adrian swallowed that thickness you get sometimes out of his throat, it was so quiet he felt a shock of cold fright, thinking that the figure may have possibly heard him; making someone construe fear resonating from your gut was never a wise sign to pulse like sonar to anyone around this area in Moscow.

Adrian tried to position his head in such a way that would make the walking figure assume he was pointing his eyes away from him; of course this wasn't the case. The back of Adrian's eyes where burning with muscle pain he'd them turned right so much. The figure moved closer, and the sound of crunching snow bellowed louder. Adrian takes a breath.

The walking figure ambles past; Adrian releases a shaky breath out in front of himself, inflating a huge glistening cloud of frost. "Young man, you are a weak excuse for a man," a strong voice gently echoes up against Adrian's left ear. He flinches around in the direction that the voice sounded from. "I am assuming that you are Adrian, yes?" - "I am..." Said Adrian with a really obvious hesitance.

He tried exerting his vision to make out what the voice looked like, but the only light he could employ was the foggy glow leaking in from the left side coming in from the street; so unsurprisingly the voices' face was veiled behind darkness. Unfortunately for Adrain, a tattered red woolen hat was voices' only memorable feature.

"Tell your name. You've approached me over the phone in a very suspicious manner; you owe me your name and who you are." Adrian thought he could hear voice give of a quick snigger, "I don't owe you anything friend, but my name is rink. I like to drink so that is my name." He snaps back at him, "Sorry, that is not enough" in a deep and distinctive Russian accent; "I don't want to know bar names, we will talk whenever you have told me precisely who you are and why you want me!"

Voice goes mute. "Volya. My name is Volya; I am part of a very small research team who have only recently been given a very large grant of money. One of a colleagues who worked at Saint Petersburg State University discovered your paper and he brought it to me." The narrow alleyway goes ambient while Adrian considers everything over. Volya adds, "My name means freedom - you know..." Adrian didn't see why he would say that, but he just accepted it innocently; if you consider what's happening and the kind of person the small team sent to grab him, nothing seems weird no more.

"I will need you to decide my friend;

My colleagues are waiting with great patients, even with

Their mental lack of social skills."

Adrian's gut doesn't agree with his offer, but he press' past it. "OK - I will join your team, I assume that you will give me all the instructions that I need to know, yes?" The frosty air allowed Adrian to see a massive cloud appear in front of Volya, which enlightened him a little bit; it helped him see that Volya (who appeared dangerous at first) was human too, the fact that he was relieved to hear his answer to join the team.

"This is really good to hear Adrian!" Like a jolly Russian solider, "We will take you to see our team now, tonight, yes? - We are not far from here."

Walking next to Volya, he felt an overwhelming sense of insecurity. Probably because Volya himself is someone with many insecurities. Adrian's someone very self-aware so with time, he became an acute analyst of character. Volya introduced himself in a jolly, animated manner; how does someone like that suddenly go introverted and quiet. Both men said nothing to one another on their way to the research facility. The delicate silence was wailing, making the walk awkward.


End file.
